Leather and Lace
by LadyLaufeyson1
Summary: After Thor has left Asgard indefinitely to be with Jane, the burden of the throne has fallen to Loki. Will he always be the monster everyone thinks he is or will he finally find a reason to be better? (LokixSif) (Updated 4/22/14 - This is probably going to be a novel length fic, so if it seems like it's moving slowly, it is! xoxo)
1. Burdened with Glorious Purpose

Chapter One - Burdened with Glorious Purpose.

The raven haired God of Mischief slumped lazily against the guilded walls of the Allfather's bedchambers, staring blankly out at the falling leaves of the pink blossom trees in the North Gardens. His crestfallen emerald gaze held for what seemed a lifetime before slowly retreating across the room to an ancient wooden desk, laden with heavily etched carvings of the fabled Fenrir Wolf. His eyes darted across the fine wood as he traced the engravings lightly with his fingers, a pained look in his eyes. His fingers slowly found their way to a small drawer hidden in the side of the escritoire. From there he proceeded to pull out a leather bound parchment journal and quill and took to writing furiously.

_ Father was right. Gods, we are not. We are born, we live and in time, we die. We search for purpose, for meaning in our lives, just as the Midgardians do. When we are in the depths of despair, we turn to those closest to us for comfort and for help; for a reason to keep struggling through those darkest hours that never seem to end, when we are so hopelessly in the thick of them. But what happens when those closest to us are no longer present?_

_ As a child I was known within the halls of Asgard to be friendly, spry – even happy, despite the fact that in years to come I would be labeled as a monstrosity; feared by those who once claimed they cared for me. As time passed I realized of my own accord and not to my own surprise that I was indeed different and not at all like those around me. I wasn't even of the same blood as those I considered family. As I continued my search for truth I stood many days alone in the shadow of my witless brother Thor – referred to by many as the rightful heir to the throne of Asgard. Yet here I am, and where is he? On Midgard, with his mortal. All for a petty and juvenile woman's heart. He is truly the idiotic fool I always took him for._

_ Before mother died she came to visit me beneath the realm, informing me that one day, despite the wishes of Odin, despite the true wishes of myself, the throne would fall to me. She knew that Thor would take his place among the Midgardians to be with Jane and "he" would once again fall into the Odinsleep, perhaps indefinitely. By default, despite my treachery, I would come to rule Asgard._

_ When I had helped Thor to save Jane Foster in Svartalfheim from Malekith, I feigned my death to escape a life of imprisonment and to free my brother, among others, of the burden of my being. I had grown tired of fighting to show the realms a part of me that no one saw. No one believed there was good left in me, and what good would it do to try and prove them otherwise? They would never trust me. Mother was gone. I planned to live out the rest of my days disguised in Vanaheim, and leave the weight of the throne to my alleged kinfolk. Not long after, I was drawn back to home. I hadn't believed Frigga when she informed me of her prophecies, but unfortunately, they were correct. I have returned just in time for father to fall into the Odinsleep, and for Thor to abandon his responsibility to Asgard. I truly have never been one for perfect timing, though somehow I feel, this was not by accident._

_ The Allfather now sleeps soundly beneath the city in the crypts of the Valhalla. No one knows of his comatose state except for I, and perhaps Heimdall, though if aware, has yet to make his knowledge known. I have disguised myself as father for the time being until he either wakes or I figure out a way out of this misfortune. I fear he may never awaken and I may never discover the latter._

_ For now, I am alone_. _Alone as always, really. This time, it is different. I do not get company aside from the incessant idiotic babbling of the warriors three, and the occasional councilman. And… her..._

A light knock came suddenly upon the door. Startled, his transfiguration was almost instantaneous. He stood, straightening himself and threw the journal into the open drawer of the desk, slamming it shut.

"Enter." He stifled.

She came in rather slowly, glancing around the door to spot him before her full entrance. Her long, tousled brunette locks gave the impression that she had been out riding, the bit in her right hand confirming it. Her iron bodice clung heavily to her chest as she breathlessly made her way across the room close to where he stood. No matter how many years had passed between them, the mere sight of her never failed to take his breath away.

"Forgive the intrusion, Allfather. I-," She was as pink as the blossoms on the garden trees. Upon closer inspection, he noticed tears in her eyes. She had been crying and judging by the general state of her, it had been for quite some time. She batted away a stray tear and his heart lurched forward in his chest. He was utterly melancholy at the sight of this.

"Sit down, Lady Sif. You are looking rather winded."

He pulled the chair hurriedly from the desk and choked back the rage in the direction of whatever or whoever had made her so upset. He had seen her like this less than a handful of times in the many years they had known each other and it never got any easier to witness.

"What seems to be troubling you, dear girl?" His voice steadied.

Her glance moved quickly from his eyes to the floor, startling him as though for a second, she might be able to see through his façade. It seemed a lifetime before she answered, and even though it pained him, he suddenly knew why she was here.

"I- I'm sorry to come barging in here so unprecedented like this, but I cannot bear it any longer. I feel as though I am going mad Allfather, my heart, it has broken. I cannot speak to the others about this. I do not know if what I am saying or thinking is wrong anymore. I-I know, I know he is gone, but I cannot-," her cries turned into sobs. "I cannot think of it anymore."

He waited a while before responding, her wails growing louder. He then spoke, as kindly as possible for even though the rage of jealousy seethed within him, easing her acute unhappiness and desolation was of far greater importance.

"Lady Sif, you are grieving for your loss. It is a natural part of existing, and we as Asgardians are not immune to the ailments of the heart."

She looked up at him with a slightly mortified and incredulous look on her face as though he had stirred up something deeply disturbing within her.

"You mean, you know?"

"My dear Sif, I have known for years your love for my son. I have watched you two grow together. I have seen the way you look at him, and him to you. I know you're longing for his company again, but my girl, you must know Thor is-"

"Thor?" She interjected rather quickly. Her eyes gazed up at him, searching his face to find the words.

"Allfather I... I was referring to Loki."


	2. Demons and Daggers

Chapter Two – Demons and Daggers

The room was suddenly spinning.

All the breath in his body instantly left him, and his eyes remained fixed to the floor. At the moment, time was suddenly of no existence or matter. He could not look at her. Not like this.

"Allfather, please, say something. I am most humiliated by this forthright confession, but I felt I had no other choi-"

"You had a choice." He spat angrily at her, seemingly unaware of his disguise. He bitterly locked eyes with hers. "What of all those years you could have told him, you could have cared for him. You could have-"

Loki stopped. He couldn't believe what he was saying to her. He could so plainly see the despair and regret in her face as tears cascaded swiftly down her flushed cheeks at his words. It overwhelmed him to see the aching she had in his eyes for him, the real him, not the man standing before her, not the brother he lived his whole life in the shadows of. She wanted him, or at least, she did. He longed to hold her, to break down this barrier between them, but he couldn't bear to pain her any more in this moment. Speaking as the Allfather, he had no idea what to do or what to say and nothing he could manage would come out properly. Suddenly, he felt like the fly on the wall in a room he had longed to be in his whole life.

A look of intent crossed her mournful eyes between sobs. She did not look at him.

"I should not have come. I am so- so sorry to have- to have come here and - burden you with my petty troubles when you are still grieving so many losses yourself. Forgive me, please." She paused, uneasily meeting his eyes. "For everything."

She hastily got up from the chair, grabbing the bit from the floor at her side. As she made a quick path for the door, he spoke.

"Lady Sif, I-" He uttered softly, trying to lessen the blow he had just delivered. It was of no use.

"Allfather, - I am deeply sorry." Before he could say another senseless word, she was gone.

The heavy sound of the door closing behind her was the equivalent to the sound of a thousand flails striking his heart all at once. However, the silence of the room where she had just been was the loudest noise of all.

Had he heard her correctly? What was this trickery? She must have known it was him underneath his front. Surely she and the warriors mean to oust him shortly. They merely sent her in to deliver the final blow that would inevitably break him, and it would. This is it. The game is up.

Still, things weren't falling into place. How would they have possibly known? A glimmer of hope that her confession might be real after all grasped quickly at his heart before that familiar feeling of immeasurable disappointment took over.

"Heimdall."

The proverbial rage that boiled inside of him was unstoppable now. He knew the feeling of disappointment, but better yet, he knew how to counter it. His one strength all of these years had been sheer anger that guarded him from the endless hurt that crossed his path so frequently. They knew how to get under his skin, they knew how to hurt him- time and time again. She was the one thing they could use to literally kill him off the nine realms – and they knew it. They knew it was her all along.

"FUCK." He screamed, throwing the heavy wooden chair across the room, his face red and pained with anger.

Tears of fury and disbelief fell down his face. What a little actress she was! He wanted to see how good of an actress she'd still be with his hands wrapped around that pretty little neck of hers. He could break her in half so easily, and at that moment, in his fury, nothing would give him more pleasure.

Storming out of Odin's chambers he clambered furiously down the halls of Asgard disguising himself as a guard as he rounded a corner out of plain sight. When he didn't find her in the common areas, or in the Tavern alongside Hogun, Volstagg and Fandral, he decided to Hel with everything and thundered toward her chambers - searching wide eyed for the maiden of lies in his deteriorating facade.

He reached her room breathlessly, the anger now seeping out of his every pore; tears still freshly stinging his eyes. As he started at the door, it opened slightly to reveal that she had not locked it at all. He slipped silently into the dark foyer, hiding deviously behind a wide marble column. He stood waiting for what seemed like hours in the shadows of her bed chambers before hearing a slight mumble and cry coming from the direction of her washroom. His stomach dropped. He knew precisely what she was doing, and for a brief moment, his anger abated. All that was left was unbelievable pain.

Fandral. Fandral was in her washroom with her. Touching her. Kissing her. Consuming every inch of her. He knew all too damn well they had shared beds before and evidently that hadn't ceased. Loki suddenly wanted nothing more than to leave and to run back to Vanaheim – to get as far away from this place as possible. But he had come this far. They both knew of his treachery now, at least this way he could make fools out of both of them and ruin their tryst in the meantime.

At that moment, a louder cry emerged from the washroom. There was nothing about this cry that suggested pleasure, and the sound of her sheer agony instinctively made him run towards the door without slight hesitation. Still concealed as the guard, Loki flung the door open to find a scene that promptly brought him to his knees.

A barely conscious Sif lay half naked on the floor of the washroom, bleeding profusely from several places on her left arm, dagger in her left.

It appeared that Lady Sif, in all her beauty, in all her wisdom, was trying very much to die.


	3. Chapter 3 - Return to Me

Chapter 3 - Return to Me

"NO!" He roared, his bloodcurdling yell echoing violently off the stone walls. Crawling swiftly on his knees towards her, he managed to pull her up half onto his lap, steadying her fervently against his chest. He quickly ripped small pieces off of her towel, wrapping them tightly around her arms where the blood poured so freely. Stripping the cloak from his back, he draped it across her barely covered figure, tucking the sides softly around the curves of her figure.

"Stupid girl, you STUPID FOOLISH GIRL," He muttered angrily, shaking her gently. His eyes flooded as he tucked the stray hairs in her face lightly behind her ears, cradling her head.

Weakly, she glanced up at him in an almost trance-like state. Her eyes closed again. Her tone was tranquil but resolved. "I know that voice. I know that touch..."

He stiffened as she reached to stroke his face. Grasping her hand before she made contact, he answered abruptly. "You don't know anything. You're in a state of shock."

"It is you. I know it is. " She smiled, starting to nod off rather alarmingly. The bandages were soaked through with blood. He quickly lifted her in his arms and brought her over to her bed chambers where he gently placed her down upon the scarlet silk sheets, covering her as much as possible.

Still concealed as a guard, he darted outside of her chambers momentarily to call for help. A passing handmaiden was the first to hear his cries and approached him cautiously.

"Lady Sif, she is not well. Fetch the closest healer as quickly as you can." The young girl looked startled by his declaration and stood dumbfounded for a moment. "What are you standing around staring at you daft quim? GO! NOW!"

* * *

It had been nearly an hour since the healer arrived. Loki stood, still in his concealment, outside the door of her chambers as inconspicuously and impatiently as possible.

_What in the nine realms is going on in there? _He thought to himself, pacing back and forth.

Just as he considered entering the chambers in a handmaiden's guise, the door creaked open, and the healer emerged. He was one of the elder healers, short, rather hunched. Loki approached the man a little too eagerly for a common guard, but the old man paid no mind to it.

"You were lucky you were there when you were – Sir – What did you say your name was?" The healer asked him frankly.

"Er – Sir – Varangot." Loki replied, remembering the surname of one of Odin's guards from his time in the prison.

"No matter, Sir Varangot. You may have saved this young lady's life today. She sleeps now, in need of rest, but I expect she shall fully recover." The old man replied, looking up into the eyes of Loki. He stared at him momentarily, almost as if he could see right through to who he really was. These healers, especially the elderly ones, were not so easily fooled. They saw things most did not. The thought made him uneasy, but he quickly thanked the old man and he was gone instantaneously.

Hurriedly, Loki opened the door to her bedchambers and walked to her side, making sure to be as inaudible as possible so as not to wake her. She looked so beautiful. Absentmindedly he stood there staring, wondering how someone so strong and so beautiful could be so sad. What would have caused her to come so far as to do this? Surely it still wasn't true, what she had said to him in Odin's chambers. There clearly was something or someone else that troubled her. Or maybe, after years of fighting some masked inner demon, she was just as tired as he was.

He pulled up a chair, arms crossed firmly and guardedly across his chest as if trying to keep all that he was feeling deep within for her from rising to the surface. There he sat, fist in his mouth, knee bouncing nervously up and down, not taking his eyes off of her – ready to protect her from the slightest speck of dust that floated her way in the afternoon sunlight. The only thing keeping him from losing his mind in seeing her so broken was diligently watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. He began to match her breath for breath, and soon, he himself started to doze off.

He awoke what seemed like seconds later to the sound of her stirring ever so slightly.

She groaned, as if trying to wake herself up but failing to against the demands of her body to remain asleep. He cautiously approached her side.

"Rest now, beautiful girl. Rest now." He smoothed her hair back and touched her face lightly, gently, barely making contact with her skin. Her eyes made as if they wanted to open, but she sighed and eventually relaxed under his touch. Her beauty and warmth burned his cold fingertips and he pulled away as if he were destroying something pure just by touching it.

She caught his arm and her eyes flew open, looking fixedly above her as if something had suddenly startled her from a bad dream.

"Loki."

Her eyes slowly moved from the top of bed canopy to where he sat beside her. He couldn't understand the look she gave him now, but it was one he had not seen from her before. It was relieved, pained, and happy, all at once. Immediately her eyes began to fill with tears, her breaths quickening eagerly. He didn't know how or why she assumed it to be him even still. That was when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room and froze.

At some point in time, Loki had transformed back into his natural state.


	4. Chapter 4 - Lavender and Springtime

His eyes flashed back to hers.

"You're here. You're real. How- how is it possible."

He swallowed hard, raising his left brow arrogantly at her. "You are not well. You don't know what-"

"You and your tricks. And your lies. Always." She interrupted him crossly, shaking her head. Pushing herself up feebly from her resting state, she paused only when the pain became too much. He started towards her to help, but her flooded eyes pinned him firmly with that _don't touch me or you'll wish you were never born_ classic Sif look. "I know you are real now, just as I did before in the washroom. Why do you continue to make this seem like an illusion? You must tell me the truth..."

Loki looked at her a long time before sighing and put his head between his hands. "If I told you, you'd only believe what you wanted to believe."

Sif cautiously reached over, as if she were about to touch a wild animal, unaware of how it would react. Taking his hand gently in hers, her breath abated momentarily at the thought of touching this man, who up until a few minutes ago, she believed to be dead. She spoke softly. "The only thing I know is that I'm glad you are alive."

The warmth from her skin instantly startled him. How long had he wanted this- her hand, in his. And not by his own accord, but of hers. He closed his eyes, almost painfully, as if the touch of something so tender and gentle was burning a hole through his very skin. His heartbeat quickened. Unable to endure something so foreign anymore, he pulled away from her. He glanced up, his face darkening. He responded the only way he knew how; angrily and with skepticism. "It is you, dear Sif, who seems to be the one so full of lies. What you are saying now, what you said to me back in Odin's chambers I-"

"I knew it was you!" Sif swallowed hard. "I thought it when I had left- I thought I was going mad."

"Clearly you are mad. Look at what you've done! Lady Sif, the _great warrior princess_." He spat, overemphasizing the last bit of his remark. "Look at the state of you now." He muttered disgustedly in disbelief, shaking his head at her. Without a doubt, he was mustering all the anger he had within him in an unsurprising attempt at masking his true emotions.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" She screamed, matching his rage with ease, tears streaming down her face. The blood drained from her cheeks. Suddenly, it was clear to Loki that she was recalling the memory of his feigned demise, and the look on her face made his stomach turn with self-loathing. It was then he realized her sentiments back in the Allfather's chambers were not insincere.

"Sif, I -" He started, but she raised a feeble hand to silence him.

"Don't." She pleaded wearily, her eyes heavy and drunk with sadness. "I'm tired. And I don't care. I don't care what you've done, or how it is you're still here, or any further excuses you feel you need to make." She sat up further, using her unscathed arm to lift the covers away from her body and swung her legs swiftly over the edge of the mattress. Before he could stop her, she was up and standing before him, steadying herself against the edge of the bed. She slowly crouched down on her kneels in front of where he sat, forcing him to look at her. "I only know that I have begged the Gods to bring you back to me. And here you are."

The sight of her in front of him now was comparable to the mid-summer sun of Asgard- for he could not look at her directly; she was blinding in her all of her beauty and close enough to burn him. The short, cream-colored lace robe she wore hugged her striking figure, leaving very little unexposed. Her heavy dark locks fell chaotically across her chest, covering her breasts where they otherwise would have been bared to him through her transparent negligee. The only thing about her that was out of sorts were the fresh wounds covered loosely in several cloth tourniquets. In a way, despite the way she appeared in that robe, the lacerations reminded him she was still the warrior he'd always known. Still, this did nothing for his nerves and he looked down abashedly, cursing himself for causing her harm and all the while acting like a damned fool. What lingered in front of him now was no longer the tempestuous maiden he fought with and against, but a woman, whom he had ached for his entire life.

She stood up, this time moving gingerly so that her stomach was inches from his face. Her head cocked to one side, studying him closely as her fingers delicately brushed a strand of his hair away from his eyes and behind his ear. Running the fingers of both hands delicately through the slicked back locks of his mane, she fervently but gently pulled him closer until she could feel his breath on her abdomen, sending an intense feeling of desire throughout his body. His hands magnetically moved to her thighs, pulling her into him, burying his face into her stomach. The intoxicating smell of lavender and springtime and everything beautiful in the nine realms invigorated his senses and he found himself in the middle of a dream he never wanted to wake up from. _Curse the fabric between my lips and her beautiful skin_, Loki thought to himself. As much as he could have easily ripped the garment off of her, taking her as she was now, he wanted this to last forever. She was not a bar maiden or concubine. She was a delicate flower, rarer than the convergence; and the very center of his universe.

Sif reached down and pulled him up to her where they stood, hand in hand, facing each other. She helped him out of his layers until he was bare chested in front of her, his raven colored hair a disheveled mess. She fluently raised herself on her tip toes and her forehead fell gently against his. They searched each other's eyes for what felt like centuries before he inched towards her, backing her up towards the bed, his hand brushing against the small of her back.

"Kiss me, Loki." She whispered desperately in the soft glow of the evening light, looking passionately into his eyes. Eyes she had waited for years to appear so soft and sensual.

At the sound of her request and his name leaving her mouth, he gently cupped the back of her head using both of his hands and placed his aching lips upon hers. Her lips were supple and wet, warm, like biting into a ripened peach heated by the sunshine. She leaned into him further, desperate to savor the moment she had waited so long for. _He is beautiful…_ she thought, grasping his locks tightly in her fingers, afraid to ever let go.

Carefully laying her down on the bed, his mouth not leaving hers for a second, he took her right hand in his, placing it over his pounding heart so she could feel, if she couldn't already see, exactly what she was doing to him. He knew, in this moment, he would never kiss another woman for the rest of his days. _There was only her, there was only ever her…_

All at once, the chamber door creaked open. Loki looked up to see Fandral standing wide-eyed and livid in the far corner of the room.

"YOU FILTHY LITTLE WHORE!" He shouted angrily, in utter disbelief.

"IS THIS HOW YOU TREAT YOUR HUSBAND TO BE?"

Immediately, he started after them


	5. Chapter 5 - Confessions

Loki had shape shifted back into the guard so quickly that Fandral did not see it was him. His eyes were fixated on Sif now, the rage on his face clearly intended for her alleged infidelity. Before Loki had time to react, Fandral had crossed the room, grabbing her by her wounded arm and throwing her hard onto the ground. Under normal circumstances, Sif would have certainly held her own against Fandral, for Loki had seen it before, but she was in such a weak state that it was not possible.

There had been times in the past where Loki had been angry with Fandral, but nothing came close to the primal rage that now burned within his veins. He caught him firmly by the throat and dragged him, pinning him hard against the wall.

"And who are you, _friend_?" Fandral spat between gasps of air. Loki's grip remained tight around his neck as though he was perfectly fine with killing him on the spot.

"One." He spoke calmly, eerily, holding up the pointer finger of his free hand pensively to his mouth. An insane laugh emerged from his lips. "If you ever refer to Lady Sif as a 'Whore' again I will, essentially, cut off your man parts and feed them to you." He said, matter-of-factly.

Fandral struggled uncomfortably, his eyes carefully regarding Loki's. _There is something strangely familiar about that tone of voice_, he thought briefly before his primary need for air took over.

"Two." Loki whispered, eyes darkening. His face moved closer to Fandral's. "If you choose to lay a hand on her again, your lack of man parts will be the least of your worries. You DO- NOT- TOUCH- HER-." He emphasized through clenched teeth, slamming Fandral against the wall with each word.

"Stop, please-" Sif begged him exhaustedly, still struggling on the floor. "No more. You're killing him."

"Am I?" He said, pleased with himself, not taking his eyes away from Fandral's. The man was turning blue and yet Loki remained murderously steadfast. Sif managed to pull herself up and slowly made her way over to where the two men stood. She was frightened by Loki now, disturbed by how quickly he could go from the man she was just with to the man standing before her now. She knew him well, she knew who he was, and the things he had done. Somehow, to her, none of it mattered. But she wouldn't have any more red on his ledger.

"Stop it." She whispered, gently putting her hand on Loki's grasp. "Come back… come back to me…"

The touch of her hand instantly loosened his grip and Fandral fell exasperatedly to the floor with a loud thud. Grabbing him by the collar, Loki dragged him heavily towards the door and out into the hall.

"Remember my words, _friend_." Loki whispered heatedly, slamming him once more against the wall, pointing his finger inches away from Fandral's face. "Make yourself scarce."

Fandral lay on the cold cobblestone floor of the cloister somewhere between a dream and consciousness. For a moment, before blacking out, he could have sworn the ghost of Loki Laufeyson had just appeared before him.

* * *

Loki stepped slowly, pensively back into Sif's room, gesturing to her door. After pausing a moment, he spoke.

"You might want to change the locks on your door…"

Sif chuckled timidly; relieved to find him in a softer state than the one he had left in.

He stood for a minute, looking down at his hands. His mischievous sneer diminished at her laugh and all that was left was a heavy sadness and fatigue in his eyes- as if an evil spirit had just vacated his body. She hadn't noticed how exhausted he had looked until now, as if the events of the past day were profoundly wearing on his already fragile psyche.

"Do you- desire him?" Loki spoke warily, his remark more of a statement than a question. Either way, he was sure it was an inquiry he did not exactly want an answer to.

"No." She interjected quickly, shaking her head vehemently. She approached him swiftly, but gingerly. Her hand reached up to touch his rough, cool face that iced her fingertips. "I want you." She said firmly, searching his eyes.

"But you'd have him for- for your husband?" He asked incredulously, gently removing her hand and placing it back at her side. His brow increasingly furrowed at the thought of her marrying that imbecile.

Her gaze fell in embarrassment, hurt by his rejection of her touch. Crossing the room to her window seat, she sat, staring out the diamond leaded panes, trying to hide the tears that were quickly coming. Pulling her knees into her chest she closed her eyes, holding on to her wounds as if she was trying desperately to hide them.

"After your death I was quite unwell, to say the least." The valiant Lady Sif, she thought. Broken wide open. "The only thing that kept me alive was the hope that you might return, as you did before after the Bifrost was split-"

Loki scoffed at her. "As a monster."

Sif continued, shaking her head solemnly. "As rumors spread that your body was found, I- I was lost. I knew once Thor had permanently returned to Midgard, you were truly gone. I spent every night drinking in the Alfheim Tavern with Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun until I found myself in a permanent state of intoxication. Drinking was the only time I saw you anymore." She swallowed hard, the tears flowing freely now. Her voice was unsteady. "Sometimes you'd be there, in the dark corners of the Tavern or in the cloisters. There were times I was certain you sat by my side, making certain I didn't drink myself to death. I-" Sif stopped, a wave of realization rushing over her.

"It _was_ you, wasn't it?"

Loki quietly walked over to where she sat, grabbing a blanket from her bed on his way. He sat down next to her, drawing the blanket over her shoulders, covering any inch of exposed body that he could see. "Yes. It was me."

Her eyes went from desolate to seething in a matter of seconds. "WHY DIDN'T YOU REVEAL YOURSELF TO ME? YOU _KNEW_ HOW I SUFFERED!" She shouted at him through tears, pounding on his chest, taking him completely aback. For the first time she truly expressed herself in such a way that Loki could understand. Hateful. Angry.

It was at that moment, he did understand. He caught her very gently by her wrists, carefully avoiding her wounds and brought her into his arms. She fought only momentarily before melting into him, crying harder as she did. He spoke softly, smoothing her hair down and rocking her gently back and forth. "I didn't realize I was the cause of your suffering. Naturally, I thought it had something entirely to do with Thor leaving for Midgard. How could I believe for a minute that someone so beautiful and so strong – more so, that someone I loved so dearly - could ever think of me as anything other than the freak that I am?"

Sif stiffened slightly against him. She looked up at him timidly, her eyes weary. "Someone you… loved?"

He gazed down at her, holding her tighter against his chest. He brushed away a stray lock of hair from her eyes, his fingers traveling south to touch her lips. "Someone I love," he whispered, his head shaking intently. "Very dearly."

All of the breath seemed to have left Sif's body at the sound of his declaration. Never, in all her time of knowing him, had he ever muttered the word before. She was certain he was capable of it, but never imagined he would be saying it to her, here and now, as he was.

She sat up to look at him, the moons of Asgard shining brightly through the beveled glass, casting a shadow upon half of his face as it did hers.

"Loki?"

"Yes?" He breathed calmly, delicately.

Her lips moved into his but bypassed his mouth and moved to his ear, her hand grazing the nape of his neck. She whispered to him, her breath warm, her lips pressed against his lobe.

"Make love to me."


	6. Chapter 6 - Safe Now

Loki closed his eyes, his heart beat quickening at the sound of her request. Turning in towards her lips, he breathed deeply, taking in the intoxicating smell of her dark tresses that were draped around him. Before he could reach up to touch them, she had stood and turned to the side, releasing the blanket around her and letting it drop silently to the floor. This time the robe went with it.

He sat gawking on the window seat, immobilized by the breathtaking sight before him. Never in the whole of his life had he seen anything as beautiful as her; her porcelain skin shimmering in the moonlight, profoundly contrasted against the dark, wavy locks that fell seamlessly over her breasts.

She slowly removed the bandages from her arm, trying to pay no mind to his neglect, revealing much smaller looking wounds than had been there earlier. The healer's magic was working. She noticed him staring, but not advancing towards her and for a brief moment, she felt rather insecure.

He sensed her feelings of apprehension and immediately began removing layers of his heavy clothing until he was stripped down to his underclothing. _Blast these Midgardian undergarments, _he thought. _They aren't exactly doing much of a job concealing my "enthusiasm" here…_

Sif turned to him coyly, watching him curiously while biting the nail of her right thumb. She had secretly wanted to bed with him for years now, spending many nights pleasing herself to the thought. She always wondered what he looked like underneath all of that armor, and the man before her certainly did not disappoint. His pale, angelic skin was like a beacon of light in the dark room. The moonlight revealed a well-defined torso; strong and muscular arms. Her eyes quickly caught on to the large protuberance outlined by his undergarments. _Oh, good Lords…_she thought to herself, suddenly feeling a warm rush of longing flow through the pit of her stomach.

"Boxer briefs? How very Midgardian of you, Loki," She commented playfully, trying to break the solemnness of the moment.

He sat looking up at her, not realizing the alarmingly severe gaze he was giving. _Something was wrong, _he thought_. _He had been with women before, but it was as if suddenly, he didn't know quite what to do. Never had he been with someone he loved. Never had someone cared for him in return and what he felt in this moment was something he himself could not understand. He wanted to touch her, to be inside of her, to feel every inch of her that which he only dreamed of ever doing but was almost afraid that the minute he touched her, as if like the rarest butterfly, she would fly away from him.

She swallowed hard at the look he gave her now. She didn't know why he wouldn't advance upon her, but she knew she couldn't handle any more rejection from him. She was a strong woman, stronger than many. Any man that denied her in this manner would be a fool not worth her time, and she knew this. But he was different. She didn't want him, she needed him- desperately. Maybe, she considered for a moment, he was expecting more from her. Maybe the stories told by the various concubines claiming to bed with him were true - maybe she simply had to speak his language.

Slowly, carefully, she kneeled before him on the ground submissively, her head down. _Please_, _don't make me beg, because I will…_ she thought to herself.

His heart lurched as he saw the dejected look on her face and realized what she was doing and why. Immediately disregarding his own misgivings, he stood and went over to her, crouching down so they were both at eye level. Gently taking her chin in his head, he forced her to look up at him.

"You do not kneel to me, my darling." He said, his flooded eyes searching hers for amnesty.

Standing her up to face him, he paused briefly before proceeding. He was always so certain of everything yet she always had this way of making him unequivocally and uncharacteristically nervous. He reached up slowly, running his fingers delicately through her hair and pushed her locks in front behind to her back, exposing her breasts to him. He lifted her injured arm against his face, kissing the wounds as he did, eyes not leaving hers. With his free hand, he pulled her gently into him, tracing his fingers down her spine, hovering at the small of her back.

Staring up into his sensual gaze, into those eyes that she suddenly felt could see into the depths of her soul, she slid her hand up along his jaw and around the back of his neck, bringing his mouth hard upon hers. His lips were so wet, so soft, so gentle. It was like she had been parched for a lifetime and he was the river she had been searching for, thirsting for.

The feel of her lips taken with his. Her warm, supple breasts against his marred, rough chest. The smell of lavender mixed with her sweet breath intoxicating each and every one of his senses. If there was a time in his life more beautiful than this, he was hard-pressed to remember it.

Her hands dug further into the back of his hair, pushing his lips deeper into hers. He grabbed her hair harder, gently yanking her head back and fervently planting a trail of soft kisses and bites along her neck to her ear. When his lips found hers once more, her mouth parted, his tongue claiming hers, his fever mounting. Cupping her breasts eagerly in his hands, his thumbs rotated against her nipples, his hardness growing against her thigh.

"You are so... beautiful…," he whispered smoothly, his brow furrowing, still trying to comprehend what she was doing with him.

With her arms around his neck he grabbed her legs and pulled her up, supporting her so was wrapped around him. Carrying her back towards the bed, he laid her down delicately upon it and proceeded to remove the last remainder of clothing from his body.

She inhaled sharply at the size of him in the moonlight, completely awestruck by his physique. _This can't be happening…_ she thought. _If this be a dream, Gods, please don't let me wake…_

She sat up on her elbows, parting her legs for him as he positioned himself between her. He could hardly believe the sight before him. This goddess, this angel, who he had pined for his entire life, wanted him… HIM. The God of Mischief. Lord of Lies. Fallen son of Odin. It was blasphemy, he thought.

Leaning down so that his chest rested slightly against hers, she saw the fear and apprehension mixed with need in his eyes. Her hand found his and she squeezed, reassuring him. He lowered his head to her chest and planted his lips between her breasts, his hair falling against her nipples. A warm shudder rushed through her, as her hands clutched his back, pulling him as close to her as possible.

"Take me now," she whispered breathlessly in his ear. "Loki, take me now, I need you…"

With that, his hand gently grasped her hair, thrusting into her moist warmth smoothly, deeply. She let out a blissful moan of relief and elation as he filled her, completing her, completing the part of her that had been missing her entire life. He groaned deeply, closing his eyes and throwing back his head in breathtaking bliss. The way she felt around him, the way he felt in her. There was nothing more perfect, nothing more right, and in that moment the two of them realized what all of these wasted years had been missing. If the planets weren't aligned before this, they certainly were now, for nothing in all of the nine realms had ever been more intended, more fated than the convergence of these two.

She moved, rolling over him, taking her place on top of him. Steadying herself with one hand on his chest and the other deep within his hair, pushing his head back onto the mattress, she rode him fervently as he touched her. His hands clawed at her thighs, pulling her into him, faster and faster, more heatedly and more passionately with each passing moment. It was as if the carnal flood gates he had been trying so hard to keep closed had burst open, inadvertently and unapologetically.

He threw her off him, flipping her over and pulled her legs greedily up to meet him. Grabbing her hair he pulled it back towards him, his free hand finding her nub as he took her hard from behind. It wasn't long before her climax grew as she was in complete wonder at being taken by him in such a raw form. As he felt her walls tightening around him and heard her breath quickening, he flipped her over once more and found her lips against his. Thrusting deeply yet more sensually now, he felt his own pleasure approaching.

"Come for me, my love. Come now…," he whispered in the dark, holding her against him as she arched her back up off the bed.

His command was her unraveling, and her unraveling was his. She closed her eyes, calling his name out into the night as he came into her, crying out in sheer unrestrained ecstasy. They collapsed breathlessly into each other's arms, panting and sweating profusely, tears falling freely from his eyes. The release he felt from giving her pleasure and from her giving herself to him was a new emotion, one both irrefutably beautiful and completely overwhelming.

He lay silently against her chest, reaching for her hand and listening to the sound of her heartbeat until it lulled him to the edge of sleep's hold. The events of the day were finally catching up to both of them.

"I love you...," she whispered, her eyes suddenly watering at the thought of how cruel life had been to him.

Hearing her words somewhere in between sleep and awake, Loki softly squeezed her hand.

Sif looked down at the man in her arms, blissfully happy for the first time in her existence, knowing full well he felt the same. Stroking his hair tenderly, she kissed his forehead. Whatever it was he had done or whatever trouble he was in, she would let no further pain come to him.

She held him tighter against her.

"You're safe now..."


	7. Chapter 7 - Nightmares

That night in his dreams, Loki relived a harrowing memory of when he was young- no more than ten years of age. He was laughing, racing Thor in the Langthwaite Meadow to the edge of the Dark Forest. Failing to heed their mother's incessant warning of staying clear of the woods, the two boys approached the forest regardless, completely out of breath.

"Beat you, _brother. _I'm getting a bit bored with winning all of the time!" Loki bragged between gasps of air, hands on his knees.

"You _shape-shifted_ again, you cheat!" Thor shoved him, knocking him over onto the ground.

Loki laughed and laid on the grass, hands behind his head, smiling smugly up at his brother. "It's not my fault I'm infinitely more clever than you are."

Before Thor had a chance to retort, they heard branches snapping behind them. They turned simultaneously to find a black cloaked figure suddenly emerging from the woods, its face hidden well in the dense shadow of its hood.

_"Freyja…" _Loki exhaled, awestruck by the creature that now stood before him. Thor ran quickly away, yelling for his brother to follow, but Loki remained steadfast, though fully alarmed.

"Why do you not run, _Son of Odin?" _The figure asked slowly, eerily, peering down at him with nothing but two piercing blue eyes through darkness.

Freyja was a völva - an ancient Asgardian seeress who every so often would appear before those she felt were somehow in need of her abysmal prophecies. She was not a benevolent goddess by any means, and not beautiful despite many legends claiming otherwise. She was a monster- a wicked daughter of magic, unlike Frigga- whose prophecies continuously brought chaos and conflict to the nine realms.

"It is not _you_ men fear, only your words," he replied bravely, but cautiously.

"I see, young prince of Asgard," she spoke, crouching down to meet him at his eye level. She removed her hood before him, revealing a hideously skeletal face, sunken eyes and rotting cheekbones. The few strands of blonde hair stretched across her balding head like pieces of decomposed straw and the stench of her was nauseating. It appeared to Loki as though she had died and been dragged out deep from the depths of Hel. "And do you not _fear_ words?"

Loki swallowed hard, trying to bravely look her in the eyes but he was suddenly paralyzed by her ghastly figure.

Freyja cocked her head and smiled at him, her teeth crooked and yellow, her mouth gaunt. "You and I are not so different, Loki _Odinson_._"_

"You mean- by our gifts of sorcery-," he gulped.

"That is one way, child. It is not my right to tell you who you truly are. You will know in time. You see, you are very much the spawn of misfortune and ill luck. Things you love will die. Anything that loves you will prematurely meet its end. In time, you will know what a monstrosity you are -," her voice became less and less calm and more threatening as she stood, hovering over him, coming closer with each word. Loki's eyes widened tearfully as she encroached upon him, spewing these mere "words" that somehow stung him like a thousand knives.

At that moment, Frigga appeared out of thin air, grabbing her son by the hand and fleeing swiftly with him away from woods.

"SOMEDAY YOU WILL FIND ME AGAIN, _PRINCE OF ASGARD_," The malevolent seeress yelled ominously, lingering at the edge of the forest. Clearly she could not cross the borders beyond it. "SOMEDAY YOU WILL WANT TO KNOW-"

"SILENCE WITCH!" Frigga turned and yelled, her eyes burning, flames suddenly lighting the path between where the two opponents stood. Loki had never seen his mother look so angry before, which only added well to his fear. At the sight of the flames coming towards her, the völva disappeared quickly into the woods, her dark figure quickly dissipating into deranged wails of laughter.

His mother turned to him, crouching down and holding him close to her. "My darling boy, I've told you plenty of times to stay far from those woods…"

"How did you find me?"

"I _always _know where you are, my little wizard," She smiled, touching him briefly on the tip of his nose. "But this time, it was Thor. He got to me faster than my own mind, if you can believe it."

"Mother," Loki looked at her thoughtfully. "What am I? Why does the seeress say such horrible things about me?"

Frigga looked carefully at him, holding back tears as she did so. Her hand pushed back a stray lock of his raven hair and she leaned forward to kiss him gently on the forehead. "Loki Odinson, you are a beautiful boy, _my_ beautiful boy. Frejya has a strong dislike for our family. Anything she can say to try and hurt us, she will. You are too young to have to have been exposed to such a beast. For that I am sorry. But you mustn't speak of this again, for no good shall come of it. Do you understand?"

Loki nodded, his mother's words comforting him. A boy of ten was not to be bothered by such dreadful matters. There were more important things on the agenda, like beating his brother in archery or seeing how long he could sit up in a tree and peg Sif with crabapples before she took notice and threatened to beat him up.

Returning back to the North Garden's, he found Thor and Sif playing by one of his favorite trees – an ancient willow he liked to run to and hide under whenever Odin was angry with him. Loki hid from them at first, picking up pebbles along the way to taunt them with. When he looked up, they were both gone, but he heard the sound of their laughter beneath the curtain of the heavy branches.

When he ran underneath the tree to find them, Thor was nowhere to be found. Instead, Sif lay motionless on the ground; above her stood the familiar dark, hooded figure.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?" Loki screamed, rushing to her side. "SIF! LADY SIF WAKE UP, WAKE UP!" He cried, tears pouring freely, shaking her vigorously. "MOTHER! THOR! HELP, SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!"

"It is not what _I_ have done to her, Loki _Laufeyson_. It is what _you_ have done to her." The figure replied chillingly.

"NO! SIF! PLEASE! PLEASE WAKE UP! SIF! SIF!"

Something was physically shaking Loki now. From somewhere, he heard a familiar voice.

"LOKI! I'M HERE! LOKI! LOKI WAKE UP!"

Loki's eyes flew open, and he immediately shot straight up. Sweat poured down from his face and onto his chest, his heart racing, eyes wide. It took him a moment to realize he was back in Sif's bed, and she was safely next to him. Once he did he sighed heavily, his knees pulled up to his chest, his face in his hands.

"What- happened?" She asked, cautiously touching his back.

He flinched then calmed at her soft, tranquil touch. Running his hands from his tear and sweat soaked face through his slicked back hair, he laid back down beside her, pulling her up close against his chest.

"Bad dream, I suppose." He replied, brow furrowed, smoothing her hair down and tracing his thumb along her jawline. He didn't want to get into what he had just relived from his childhood, though the message to him was quite clear. Even though the latter part of it never occurred, the prophecies were rather accurate. Dreams did not come often to Asgardians, and when they did, they almost always meant something. Intense sadness and dread washed over him, and Sif immediately knew there was something he was not telling her. In fact, she knew there were several things.

"By the way," she said, changing the subject from one seemingly dark matter to another. "Where _is _the Allfather?"

Loki sighed and began the vexing task of explaining in detail the things they had not yet discussed, but which were looming inevitably. Not even the magic of the previous night could spare them from the sunlight blinding them through the windows, reminding them all too soon of the harshness of their realities.

"I should have come to you earlier," she said desolately. "I should have made my affections known. Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe then you wouldn't have-"

"Killed all of those people on Midgard?" He sadly interjected. "No, my darling. I'm not sure it would have saved me, even then. The Tesseract, once in my hands, possessed a power unlike any other. I never once had it – it only had me. What happened on Midgard I have very little memory of doing. I know what I've done. I am reminded every day, every minute. I know I do not deserve to live, and there is no excuse good enough for my behavior. I've wanted to end it every moment since. But what happened down there was not me, in my heart of hearts I know this, and trying to explain it to anyone who has never had an infinity stone within their grasp is fruitless."

Sif swallowed, her eyes closing at the sound of his words. Clearly it was something she thought about, and often, since the boy she grew up with and the man who had done all of those terrible things were two completely separate people. A trickster, an imposter, that he was. But Loki was never a murderer.

"What of the Destroyer you sent to New Mexico to attack us – to attack me? Did you not care then- about any of us?"

"When I found out what I truly was, who I was, I didn't care anymore. A part of me snapped. You loved Thor, or so I thought, and I wanted him dead. I did, that I won't deny. I felt like he knew all along and lied to me just as Odin and Frigga did, and that was a grave blunder on my part. All I knew was lost. All except the power of the throne – the one chance I had left to be anything, where people would see that I could be a good king, that I could do right by them. I couldn't do that with Thor in my way. He never would have let me as he bends too easily to Odin's will. But I never would have hurt you. I know that, and deep down, I think you've always known that too. I ached for you even when I thought he was all you ached for. In a way, we both had something we couldn't have and that was an even enough keel for me. At least, at the time it was. When I returned to Asgard for the second time to be imprisoned I had many hours to think to myself – to be myself once more – and reflect upon all that I had done and all that I had become. When Thor approached me I seized an opportunity that would help me get exactly what I was looking for, all I was looking for - revenge for my mother's murder and redemption in his eyes and possibly even yours. I had one last chance to prove myself good, but I was not going to come back and while away in a cell for the rest of my days. I'd rather be dead than have too much time to sit and think on you pining away for that lumbering oaf."

Sif smiled against his chest, hearing the familiar jealousy and annoyance in his voice. There he was, the Loki she always knew and loved. "You. Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself."

Loki paused at her words and abruptly stopped running his fingers through her hair.

"What is it?" Sif asked, looking up at him.

"Those were Frigga's last words to me…" Loki sighed, recalling what seemed to be yet another unpleasant memory in the abundance of them that he had.

"She was a smart woman. The smartest woman I ever knew."

Loki smiled. "She loved you fiercely. You know that," he sat up, "Do you remember when we were children and I cut off your hair?"

Sif rolled her eyes and sat up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, her fingers entwined with his. "Do I ever."

"Terribly sorry about that, my love. But mother was_ furious_ with me! You should have seen her! She threatened to send me to live with the Trolls! _She_ was the one that brought your hair back from them, not I, and I'm afraid we still owe them a debt for it." He chuckled, recalling the memory. Something seemingly harmless, but something he knew deeply affected her. He tried to jest though his heart was truly sorry for the pain he had caused her so long ago. "But if I do say so, that color is very becoming on you…," he said smiling, trying to lighten the heavy moment, but with a hint of sadness still in his eyes.

"You best say so, it is _your_ doing that I am forever raven-haired, just like the son of mischief! It has grown on me though. I like to think that a blonde shield maiden would not have been taken as seriously."

"I've never taken you seriously either way," he said, cocking an eyebrow at her and holding back laughter as she swung at him. He pulled her down, tickling her underarms and pinning her beneath him.

"You fool!" She screamed with laughter, making to kick him in the nether regions if he did not cease. His hands flew up in the air in surrender and he smiled playfully at her. Laying back down on his side facing her, head resting on his hand, his smile suddenly faded.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" He ran his fingers lightly over her wounds that were quickly fading into scars.

Sif swallowed, suddenly looking ashamed. "I, much like you, had nothing left. My best friend had left for Midgard, Frigga was dead. I had a lifetime of marriage to _Fandral _to look forward to, of all things, after agreeing in some drunken stupor. And you- you were never coming back. It was desperation, some would say it was incredulous that I would fall so far beneath my honor, but the void I felt with you truly gone was something I knew I could search the nine realms for eternity for and never fill. There was no life anymore. My heart was gone." Tears fell freely from her face down onto the sheets, her eyes looking away from his.

"My darling, I always find a way back. You've underestimated me," He smiled lovingly up at her, resting his palm on her cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb. Her hand slid up to hold his against hers. Leaning down in down into him, their lips met.

Breaking away after minutes passed, Loki suddenly remembered what had been bothering him since he woke. "I must go. I have duties to attend to."

"You're the King. Can't you stay in bed all day?" she whimpered at him, smiling teasingly.

"My guards will surely be beginning to suspect something by now, a king cannot lay in bed _all_ day - although Odin seems to make quite the habit of doing so," he said bitterly. "Fortunately, this king is rather gifted at being in two places at once – but only for a short while. I will be back by nightfall, my love. Do you need me to send for the healer?"

"I seem to be healing fine."

"I'll send for him anyway," Loki said, disregarding her statement and moving around the bed to her side, kissing her hand. "Nothing is too good for you."

"Where are you going now?"

"I have several council meetings to attend and then, well, I suppose I should bathe at some point…," he smiled humorously.

"Well… save that part for tonight then," she winked at him, laughing as he laughed.

"Until then, my love," he stood, pausing momentarily to gaze at her beauty and the warmth emanating from her eyes, wondering what in Hel he ever did to deserve her.

Transforming back into the guard, Loki stepped outside into the hall and leaned hard against her door. He found the nearest handmaiden and asked her to fetch the healer. Once she had disappeared, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before walking straight across the cloister into the gardens.

From there, Loki headed off in the direction of the Langthwaite Meadow.


	8. Chapter 8 - Magnus

(Decided to split this chapter up into two smaller chapters - sorry to make it so short, but another will follow soon!)

Sif heard a knock on her door the moment she stepped out from the washroom, fully dressed in her usual attire. Quickly securing her hair up in a simple ponytail and smoothing her tunic, she started toward the door, hoping momentarily that Loki had forgotten something.

She opened the barricade, unsurprisingly, to find the same healer that had cared for her in her less than glorious hours the previous day. He was a very short man, quite old, who had an undeniable warmth and mystery about him. He always wore a faint smile upon his face as if he were harboring the most pleasant of secrets. He vaguely reminded Sif of someone she once knew, but she couldn't quite place him.

"Please, come in," she spoke kindly, gesturing for him to enter.

"Thank you, child," he replied hoarsely, waddling through the door and over to her bureau where he placed his weighty knapsack down upon it. Fumbling through his bag, he pulled out a pair of wire rimmed spectacles and gestured for Sif to sit in the chair next to him.

"I trust you are feeling better?"

"Ah yes - forgive me- what is your name healer?"

"The name's Magnus, my girl," He placed the spectacles on the brim of his oversized nose, and winced up at her. "I would tell you my surname as well, but I seem to have forgotten it in the last thousand years or so."

Sif chuckled. "It's nice to meet you - Magnus." _Magnus. _The name sound so familiar to her, even now. Her face darkened. "I'm sorry we met under such humiliating circumstances yesterday."

Magnus quickly waved a hand dismissively. "No matter, my girl. Let's take a look at that arm now, shall we?" He carefully placed his hand on hers and turned her wrist so he could take a proper look at her forearm. Not a scratch to be seen. The old man nodded and gently patted the spot where her scars once were. "It seems you are as good as new."

Sif smiled as he removed his glasses and tucked them back into his knapsack. "Tell me, Lady Sif," Magnus paused cautiously before continuing, the first time he had been anything less than buoyant and lighthearted. His voice lowered. "How does your heart fare?"

"I'm sorry?"

"My dear girl," he whispered, pulling another chair feebly in front of her to sit in. "I know what you did yesterday. I know why you did it. I even know who you did it for."

"H-how?"

"Well, you're not the first to try and do something like this in these parts. No, no, I've seen this more than once in my years. Many have pined away for lovers that have left or since passed on, unable to cope. You may not remember me either, but I knew both of your parents, and well. My wife was Alva, your mother's handmaiden for the better part of her years. I, with the help of my wife, helped bring you into this world. Do not be alarmed, but I have watched you from a safe distance for most of your life. I promised your parents on their deathbeds and Alva on hers, that I would keep you from harm, that I would be your sworn healer."

Sif's hands closed over her mouth and tears welled in her eyes. She suddenly knew who he was, and she was not alarmed. She had loved Alva as a child, loved playing with her. She was closer to her than she was with her own mother. She had not recognized Magnus initially, the years since she was a girl had deeply aged him – most likely from the stress of losing his wife, she thought - but beneath those deep lines and wrinkles was indeed a man she once knew.

Reaching out to him, she took his hand in hers, wiping a stray tear from her eye with her free hand as she did. She sat up straight and looked at the floor, smiling. "I know who you are, Magnus. Why did you not make your presence known sooner to me?"

He smiled, patting his eyes dry with a handkerchief he produced out of his breast pocket. "Knowing you, Lady Sif, you would have avoided me like the plague. It's hard enough keeping fair track of you as it is without you knowing, but you, being the mighty warrior that you are now, wouldn't let me close if you knew I had sworn to protect you. It has been easier these years you knowing not of my existence. Less painful, at least. For the both of us."

"I was so young when she died…," Sif replied, a hint of pain in her eyes. "I suppose I grew up wanting to pretend none of it had happened which is partly why I trained to be a warrior. Asgard is so vast I never thought I'd see you again, didn't know if you were still even here and wouldn't know where to begin looking. But I did think of you. And her. Often."

"It seems you never had to look too far, I was always kicking somewhere around these parts," he smiled at her, but quickly, that smile faded. "My dear, to be quite frank, I've come to you now because I fear for your life. Not just because of your actions yesterday. Your heart is in a dangerous place. I've always known your affections for him, but-"

"Magnus, Thor is not-," Sif interrupted.

He raised a gentle hand to silence her. "The only one unaware of your love for Loki all of these years, I'm afraid, was him – and perhaps, yourself. We all knew. Your parents. Alva. Frigga. Thor. Even Odin. The two of you were bound to one another before you could form words. I know telling you to stay away from him is fruitless, but there is a dark order where that boy is concerned."

"You're right in that it is fruitless. And – and anyway, he is gone, i- it doesn't matter anymore," she raised her brow at him, suddenly realizing her façade wasn't bearing any weight.

"My dear, it is no use. I saw through him when he came to your bedchambers just yesterday, and even if I hadn't, it would have been clear by the light in your eyes I see now that I haven't seen since before his feigned demise," Magnus laughed to himself. "That boy has been trouble since he could walk, and you, always several paces behind him."

Sif looked down and smiled to herself, ignoring the heavy undertones in his statement. Loki was alive. Everything else, they could overcome. Together. She would save him no matter the circumstances, fight beside him against any beast that threaten to tear him from her. Now that the Gods had heard her pleas, now that they had brought the two of them back together, nothing would break them apart; and Sif would die trying to make sure of it.

"Lady Sif, Heed my warning –," he continued, his voice cracking. "Loki has always been a man of two faces. You _know _him to be dangerous, perhaps you aren't yet aware of just _how_ dangerous. The rest is not for me to say. But I will say one more thing which you _must_ hear…"

Sif leaned in curiously, her heart sinking at the look of concern across this man's face who, just moments ago, was smiling along with her. She suddenly knew whatever he would say to her now was something of grave importance that would change the course of things drastically.

"You are different in more ways than one since I last saw you yesterday, my girl," Magnus paused, looking up at the startled shield maiden.

"It appears to me now… that you are with child."


	9. Chapter 9 - Revelations

The blood drained from Sif's face. She was fully aware that Asgardian healers knew the very moment conception occurred and could tell whether someone was twenty days along or twenty minutes, but this was far from the type of news she expected to hear. She looked from his eyes down slowly to her stomach, running her fingers across the fabric of her tunic. _It's impossible, _she thought.

"It's not impossible," Magnus said, his head down, seemingly able to read her thoughts. "You are different now than you were the last time I saw you meaning conception occurred in the interim."

Her eyes fixed straight ahead, filling with tears. The dangerous realization that someone other than her was aware of Loki's existence suddenly hit quite hard. "Please," she begged him, grabbing his hands and falling to her knees. "Please, you mustn't tell anyone he is alive. Not now. Not, not now."

"No, no Lady Sif," Magnus ushered her back into her seat, patting her hands in her lap. "That news is not for me to share. I have sworn to keep you safe. I'm not sure letting him near you is keeping you safe exactly, but I know now you would be far worse off without him." He reached in his pocket and slowly pulled out a tiny white stone attached to a thin leather band. "Wear this. Always."

"The Eolh rune?" Sif looked up at him, confused.

"For protection. You will need it, there is no doubt. I cannot say what will become of you, of any of us in the coming times, but I do know we're going to need quite a bit of help. And I know I won't always be around to fix up your wounds," he said, a hint of a smile back on his face.

She slowly sat back up on the chair, wiping her eyes and taking the stone from him. She placed it gradually around her neck and buried it deep beneath her tunic, holding it against her chest. Her left hand never strayed from her stomach.

"Do you know… what it is? I mean.. do you know-"

"I've had visions. Two children. A boy. And a girl," he said, smiling up at her through those warm, squinty eyes.

Sif gasped, her brows furrowing. She looked down at her stomach disbelievingly. "Twins?"

"Twins."

* * *

Once Loki had made it far enough through the tall brush of the meadow, out of plain sight, he transformed eagerly back into his natural state. He was livid. The lines in his face, the dark shadows under his eyes, the severe strut in his walk – he was back to being the Loki most of Asgard knew; a true force to be reckoned with. Trudging through the thick brush, he cursed repeatedly under his breath at the unkempt state of the grounds until he finally reached the edge of the woods.

"WITCH!" he cried in an outrage, wasting absolutely no time summoning the sorceress. He held his arms out as if looking to embrace someone, a deranged grin on his dark face. "IT IS I, YOUR PRINCE OF ASGARD. COME NOW, WHERE IS MY OLD FRIEND?"

He heard the familiar snapping of branches several yards from where he stood. His body spun in the direction of the noise just in time to see the black hooded figure step out from behind a large oak and lean against it.

"Don't you mean… _King _of Asgard?" Freyja sneered, laughing eerily to herself.

"Why have you sought me out, _demon?_ I know what I am now; I know of my lineage, why do continue to use such things against me? Have I not suffered enough in your eyes that you know pose _threats_ to those I love?"

"LOVE?" she replied incredulously, her cackle deafening. "Hearing _those words _from your mouth – _No_, no, _my king, _do not mistake me. I pose no threats. I only wish to solve the rest of your – _puzzle_ for you. My dearest Loki, Son of Laufey and Farbauti, you are much _more_ than just an _appalling _Frost Giant who should never have been granted access into Asgard," she spat, circling him while running a long, black fingernail down the side of his clenched jawbone. "You were cursed, at birth, when you were taken - _cursed_ by your _real_ parents. You have a rightful throne – but not here. Not in this realm."

"Jötunheim."

"_Very good, _my king. You see, until you return to Jötunheim to take your place as king of the Frost Giants, you will never have love. You will never have peace. Those who love you will cease to be. And those you truly love – well, look at what happened to Frigga. Or should I say, look what _you _did to Frigga_-"_

_"_ENOUGH!" He yelled, grabbing her by the throat, his eyes blazing with fury. If looks could kill, Freyja would have been dead instantly on contact.

Her black lips smirked underneath his grasp and her hands waved in front of him. "It isn't right to shoot the messenger…," she choked.

"I have a hunch you're much more than that, _Freyja," _he sneered, throwing her down on the ground_. _"Tell me now before I suck the life out of you, what way out of this is there?"

Freyja laughed again, clutching her chest and rocking back and forth on the ground. "You stupid boy… THERE IS NO WAY OUT," she barked angrily at his blatant ignorance on the matter, her eyes glowing fiercely at him. "Unless-

"Unless?"

"Unless you die."

Loki laughed at her, his hands expressing themselves freely now. "While I have thought in the past that would solve a _lot _of problems, I was hoping for an alternative."

"There is another way. If you… bear a son, they will come for him instead," she spoke, her tone slightly graver and less amused.

Loki thought momentarily to himself. There was virtually no way he could ever impregnate Sif, a man of his colorful _background_. She was too pure. He thought for a minute he might actually be able to fool the Frost Giants by making an empty promise to them, satisfying the curse and protecting Sif.

Freyja read Loki's thoughts instantly and a wicked smile crept lazily across her face.

"Don't be foolish, Laufeyson. It appears your warrior goddess is already expecting. You really _don't _waste time mucking your life up and everyone else's now, do you?"


	10. Chapter 10 - My Burden to Bear

(I'm so sorry it has taken so unusually long to update – I've been busier than normal, but have also been trying to formulate the story in the direction I want it to go. It should not take so long again! Thank you so much to everyone for your continued support!)

Loki's heart sank. For the first time in his life, he opened his mouth to speak but found himself at a complete loss for words. He wanted nothing more than to accuse the wretch of lying, but somehow he knew she was telling the truth. Sif _had_ conceived. By no means was Loki a seer, but he possessed many mystical qualities; he himself knew there was something inexplicably different about her this morning though he could not place it until now. Still, as cliché and predictable as they sounded, the words came out.

"That's _not _possible," he replied, narrowing his eyes at her and indignantly raising his chin. Though he was trying hard to appear indifferent it was taking everything in him now to hold back the tears in his eyes and the sickness rising in his throat.

"My king, which one of us are you trying to convince?" She spat back at him, a glimmer of amusement in her nefarious gaze. "How could you claim to love someone so dearly yet damn them to such a terrible fate?"

Loki crossed over to where she stood, this time desperation replacing the infamous anger in his eyes. His tone was quieter, the fear in his voice evident. "And what fate is this?"

"You are a frost giant. She is not. If she doesn't die in childbirth, they will come for her. For your child. For your-," Freyja stopped suddenly, her eyes grave. "For your _children_. I see two now. The Lady Sif will bear you two children. Sons. Looks like you won't have to leave Asgard now, Laufeyson. Your score will be settled. After all, a child is worth more than the father."

Loki looked as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach. He could take many blows, many disappointments but this was just unfair.

"What of Sif? What could they possibly want with her?"

"To raise them, naturally. Asgardian or not, she is still their mother. But they will kill her in time."

As the realization of her words began to sink in further, Loki found reality slipping away from him. His heart began to race. _A child? TWO? How? How was it possible that someone so beautiful and pure could bear **his** children? How could he have let that happen? How could the Gods let any of this happen? _He could suddenly bear no more of Freyja's presence.

With no further regards to the witch he staggered off in a trance-like state towards the meadow, which eventually turned into a run. Faster and faster he ran, his heart racing, his mind spinning. This was not true, it couldn't be, he refused to believe it. Sif had always been smart, and safe - her future bright. The one comfort he always had about not being with her was that she was so much better off without him – he _knew_ this. Did he think he could change his fate or hers by simply loving her and having her love in return? He had not been with her much longer than a day and already her existence was spoiled because of him. He couldn't bear to be the one to tell her the news, not only that he had impregnated her but that her life was now at stake. Throwing himself down into the brush and onto his knees he looked up at the sky, screaming hard as his did so, the veins in his forehead prominent, the tears pouring freely.

"WHY HER?" he yelled, painfully, pounding his fists hard into the ground. "THIS WAS NOT HER FATE! THIS WAS MEANT TO BE _MY _BURDEN TO BEAR!"

The graying sky cracked open and rain began to fall silently across the meadow. Loki slumped over on the ground dejectedly, letting the drops blanket over him. A bolt of lightning flashed brightly across the mid afternoon horizon followed by a low rumble of thunder. He quickly looked up anxiously, his heart pounding excitedly, half expecting and fully hoping to see the familiar silhouette of Thor lumbering through the tall grass over to where he lay, but no one was there. His raven locks clung soddenly to the sides of his face; he couldn't tell where the rain on his cheeks began and where his tears ended. He closed his eyes, pulling his knees to his chest and prayed silently to himself.

_I know I have wronged you, brother. More times than I care to remember, and in ways I cannot myself comprehend. You owe me nothing, and yet, if you can hear me, by some luck of the nine realms, I need you now. For Sif, if no one else…_

* * *

It was late now; the sky had long since cleared, turned to pink and then dark and yet, there was still no sign of him. Sif sat on the edge of her window seat looking out impatiently at the grounds below her. She looked down at her stomach, fingering the rune that pressed coldly against her chest and ran it across her lips absentmindedly. What would she tell him? How would he react?

Suddenly, a loud crash came upon her door, startling her entirely. It sounded much more like someone or something falling against it rather than a loud knock. She grabbed the closest dagger off the bedside table and made her way over to the noise.

"Who's there?" she asked. Normally a shield maiden of her stature wouldn't have blinked twice at the commotion, but between her new condition and the warnings Magnus gave she was a bit more jumpy than usual.

After hearing nothing for a minute, she cracked the door open and looked outside. No one was there. Suddenly, she heard a low grumble and looked down to see Loki, fully undisguised, slumped half consciously against the opposite door. He looked up at her, his eyelids heavy.

"Hello _darling_," he beamed, his voice annoyingly sarcastic. He had clearly been drinking, something Loki was not known for. Most times that Thor had made it a point to get inebriated with the lot of them, Loki would be curled up with a book in the corner of the pub. One of many things Sif had always admired about him.

"DAMNIT!" she cursed. Angrily, she grabbed him by the collar dragging him quickly out of plain sight and into her chambers, slamming the door shut and kicking her dagger across the room. Her hands snaked through her hair and began tugging her locks hard out of fear and frustration.

"WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU? SOMEONE COULD HAVE SEEN YOU- WHAT IN THE NINE REALMS WERE YOU THINKING?"

"Oh good, she still has a bit of that old fight left in her! Love hasn't made you all _soft _after all now, has it, _Lady Sif_?"

"WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?"

He sat up on the ground to get a better look at her, his eyes burning. He raised his hand, shakily pointing his finger at her and scowling in his drunken stupor. "_You_ were better than this. _You_ chose the wrong path."

Sif was so angry with him, she could hardly see straight or pay close attention to what he was saying. If he had been seen, he would have undoubtedly been taken from her and then what would she have done? Before her thoughts could rationally sort themselves out she crossed the room and fell to the ground where he lay, striking him hard across the face.

"You BASTARD. I CANNOT believe you wo- "

Loki grabbed her arm hard and raised his hand as if he were about to hit her back, his face inches from hers, his strength suddenly overpowering her. Tears welled up in his eyes, his face hardened and his veins pulsed as he breathed heavily through his nostrils, staring furiously at her. For the first time in a long time, Sif was genuinely afraid of him.

"Let go of me," she said quietly, trying hard to remain calm in his grasp. She knew he was intoxicated, and angry, for whatever reason. She knew the man doing this now was not the man she loved, but tears began falling down her cheeks, and she could not look at him. "Loki, let go."

Suddenly, a wave of realization hit him and he dropped her arm looking as if he had just done the worst possible thing imaginable by threatening to hit her, even if he didn't realize what the Hel he was doing. He had little to no control over his anger _without _the help of a drink but it was no excuse. He loved her more than anything in the nine realms, and he had just almost put his hands on her. He recoiled and then quickly reached for her, but she flinched and he did not advance.

"Sif- no, please I-," his voice was shaky and absolutely desperate. The sickness he felt within him was permeating through every cell in his body. No matter how drunk he was, he damn well realized how close he just came to hurting her and it was a sobering experience.

"It's alright. It's okay," she breathed, sitting back against the wall, holding her abdomen protectively.

Loki watched her fingers graze her stomach, and he wanted to throw himself out the window. He suddenly wished none of this had happened; it was a living nightmare to be watching someone he loved so dearly be damned because of something he had done.

"I would _never_ hurt you!" he began to weep hard. Sif had seen him cry before, but this was far from anything she had ever observed. It was traumatizing to witness. Something was clearly very wrong, though she knew not what. She quickly crawled over to him and cradled his head in her lap, running her fingers through his hair, her heart breaking at every gasp for air he took in between sobs.

"I know, shhh," she cried. "I know, my darling. I know you wouldn't."

He laid for what seemed like hours in her lap while she silently caressed his hair, forcing him in and out of sleep. She cautiously pulled him up at one point, though he realized what she was trying to do and suddenly forced himself to walk so she wouldn't exert herself on his expense. He stumbled over to the bed and sat down, his expression blank. His eyes were heavy, tired, and full of sadness.

He removed his shirt and pants and sat down on the bed, feeling quite sober but still out of it.

Sif started towards the bathroom but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard him laugh to himself and say under his breath –

_"I'm going to be a father."_


	11. Chapter 11 - Look After You

Sif turned to look at him from across the room, but his back was facing her, his head in his hands. She couldn't see the expression he wore, but she knew she didn't have to. Suddenly, his behavior made perfect sense. She had no idea how he knew, Magnus maybe, but she was too tired and too disheartened by his actions to confront him about something she was clearly not meant to hear.

She turned again and made her way to the washroom, sobbing silently to herself as she removed her tunic and stripped down to her undergarments. Focusing on one step at a time, one breath at a time, she methodically made her way over to the bath and turned on the water until it was temperate. She stared at herself momentarily in the full length mirror, crossing her arms over her stomach and closing her eyes as she held on tightly to the rune still hanging around her neck.

Footsteps sounded quietly behind her, but she kept her eyes close, too tired to open them, too afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. Familiar fingers came softly to remove the pins in her hair, letting her locks fall around her bare shoulders. His hands moved carefully to sweep the hair in one motion behind her back, his fingertips making her shiver as they brushed delicately against her skin.

She opened her eyes as he walked over to the bath to check the rising water. She moved carefully towards him, avoiding his eyes and proceeded to remove the rest of her clothes. When she looked up, he was gazing at her, his eyes heavy with fatigue and sadness, his expression apologetic. Loki said nothing yet held out a hand which she took hesitantly. He helped her up the steps to the wash basin and she lowered herself with the help of his grip.

Sinking down into the warmth of the water, Sif leaned back against the wall, sighing heavily. She looked over at him as he sat on the steps, his head and crossed arms draped over the edge of the tub, the water just barely touching the tips of his long black locks as they fell over the side. Her fingers reached for them, and he looked up at her as she gently tugged on his long, soft curls.

"Join me?" she blinked, asking hopefully, though she need not ask him twice.

He leisurely removed his briefs, letting them fall to his feet as he stepped out of them. She gawked at him in the rays of the moonlight. He truly was not of this realm she thought to herself, but in a way, she always knew that. Skin as pale and as beautiful as the Jotun snow, hair as black as Odin's ravens, Huginn and Muninn. His eyes changed from blue to grey to green (depending on his mood, she was convinced), but no matter the color, they were always his most prominent feature. Those eyes, those beautifully forlorn eyes that searched endlessly for love and acceptance. She didn't hate him for the way he acted. Not even a little. For as much as she didn't understand him sometimes, there were some things she could.

Loki sank down into the deep, warm waters of the basin, submerging his head as he did so. When he came back up he took a deep breath, perfectly slicking his hair back and leaning against the opposite wall from her. She suddenly noticed scars she hadn't before – indentations around his wrists and neck – undoubtedly from his time in the dungeons. The more she looked at him, the more wounds she saw. She suddenly felt sick. No doubt he had committed heinous acts, no doubt he was a troubled soul… but in treating him the way they did, the way everyone did – it was no wonder he had gone so far down the wrong path. She partly blamed herself for that.

He noticed her looking at him, knew she was eyeing his scars and suddenly, he felt ashamed. He knew she was reiterating the events of Midgard in her head – something he knew he would never be free of. He grabbed a washrag and a vial of cleansing oils off the side of the tub and began to scrub vigorously at himself, wishing the scars would come off along with the dirt.

Sif swam across the tub and took the cloth gingerly from him. He had scrubbed so hard his pale skin was turning bright pink in certain areas. He didn't seem to sense pain in the way everyone else did, she thought to herself. Either that or he just didn't care.

"By the Allfather, what were you doing today? Rolling around in the mud?" Her hands touched the side of his face as she straddled him, the wet warmth of her bare body pressing against his hard torso.

He looked up at her sheepishly, placing his hands softly at the base of her hips. "I guess you could say that," he nodded.

Sif gently wiped his face clean with the rag then moved to do the same to his arms and chest. She pulled him up against her and continued to wash his back, holding his neck in her hand as he rested his head on her shoulder. Loki breathed deeply, secretly taking in the scent of her hair as it fell across his face. His rough hands moved gently to the velvety skin of her back and he embraced her, holding her tightly against him. For the first time since his mother died, despite all the horror he had felt today, he felt safe. Protected. Loved.

"What is it, my darling…,"she asked quietly, placing the towel down and returning the fervor of his embrace.

"I will never deserve you," he whispered, smiling faintly against her skin. "I think I must somehow make peace with that."

"You know that isn't the truth," she replied earnestly, breaking their hold on one another. She looked up into his eyes, but he looked away. She knew wherever his mind was now was far from where she currently sat beside him.

Loki said nothing but slowly came to and turned her around until her back faced his chest. He took her soft, thick locks between his fingertips and began to pull gently against them, forming one long single braid down the middle of her back. Sif smiled to herself as he began to do so, and proceeded to question him amusedly despite knowing the answer.

"Where did you learn to braid hair so well, Silvertongue?" she said teasingly, looking down at her fingers as they made ripples in the water.

"Thor," Loki said bluntly, laughing to himself. "He was always such a woman."

Sif laughed loudly and leaned back into his chest, wrapping her arms around his head and gently pulling his hair down so his lips met the nape of her neck.

"No," Loki whispered into her skin, firmly yet tenderly pulling her braid down so her chin lifted up to him. He softly wrapped his hand around her neck and tilted her head back so their eyes met. "As I remember it," Loki said quietly, his eyes burning into hers, "a beautiful young shield maiden threatened to assault me if I didn't learn."

She closed her eyes as his fingers closed in around her throat, a warm desire suddenly spreading throughout her body and between her legs. The power he held over her was exasperating. He was the one person that could break her in half, both physically and mentally, and she knew it. They both knew it. Sif could bring Thor to his knees at times during their skirmishes, but Loki's quick wit and cunning temperament always held the upper hand when it came to the two of them. He was intelligent, yes, but most underestimated his physical prowess in comparison to Thor's. Sif knew better.

Quickly gathering her thoughts, she spoke, glaring up at him slyly. "So you cut off her hair…"

"I was _so_ tired of braiding," he rolled his eyes sarcastically, beaming at her. His smile quickly faded as his gaze fell upon the rune. He hadn't quite noticed it until now.

"Ah," he sighed, eyeing the stone carefully. "It seems as though you have protection from me after all."

Sif swallowed. Certainly she hadn't forgotten her current state or the extreme events of the day, but she was enjoying pretending as if, for once, everything was normal between them.

"I don't need protection from you," she spoke frankly, suddenly breaking free of his grasp and moving to the opposite end of the tub to distance herself.

"Sif, I don't have a very good track record of keeping those I love safe from harm. In fact, I'm usually the damaging force."

"You weren't in your right mind. You haven't been. And those who claim to love you haven't done a proper job of keeping you safe from harm either."

"Don't make excuses for me," Loki snapped. "There are none for the things I have done. And tonight- I could have-"

"Stop it," she interrupted angrily, quickly standing and stepping out of the tub. "You didn't hurt me. You wouldn't hurt me. You haven't hurt me."

She looked back and could tell by the look he gave her now that he was angry, but a heavy fear and sadness in his eyes was much more apparent. He had no idea how to inform her of the pregnancy, no idea how she would react to the news that her life was in danger, never mind the lives of her unborn children – _CHILDREN! By the Gods!_ The thought made him weak. Certainly she would leave him now, or find a way to. He knew he didn't want to tell her – the fear of her leaving him – he felt like a child afraid of abandonment. But he knew he must tell her, as much as it broke him.

"I told you I _don't_ need protection from you," she said, practically reading his thoughts. Her hands moved slowly down to her stomach as she looked down.

"But I do need protection… for them."


	12. Chapter 12 - Misfortunes

Loki blanched. He looked as if he had been punched in the stomach, and physically felt as if he had been. He had no idea she was already aware of her conception this entire time, how _could _she be_? _

"_The healer…_,_"_ he whispered breathlessly as it dawned on him, choking down any anger he suddenly felt towards the old man.

She had every right to know and he was a dolt to think otherwise. He wasn't protecting her one bit by pretending this wasn't happening, and he felt ashamed for grossly underestimating her personal strength. Unfortunately, there was still plenty she didn't know.

Loki wasn't sure how she knew how _he_ knew, but the way she spoke clearly implied that she was fully aware. She must have overhead him in the other room. _What a perfect fool I am,_ he thought.

He sat speechless in the wash basin, staring blankly at her before snapping out of his thoughts. Sif was standing naked in the moonlight, holding herself and shivering violently, her expression pained, tears falling freely down her face. He quickly stepped out of the tub, grabbed the nearest oversized towel and wrapped the both of them in it, pulling her closely into him and smoothing her hair back from her face as he did so. Sif shook as she buried her face in his chest, her fists clenched tightly against his skin. She acted as if she were about to either beat him up or start sobbing uncontrollably. Unfortunately, in Loki's eyes, it was the latter.

"_Shh…_," he cooed, pressing his lips gently to her forehead and rocking her steadily in his arms.

Loki hated to see Sif cry. When they were children and she would weep, he would always try desperately to get her to stop, usually by conjuring a bird or her favorite flower, the Asgardian moonflower. It made him uncomfortable and incredibly sad, for usually _she_ was the strong one, despite the fact that her upbringing wasn't much better than his.

"I'm sorry-," she choked out loudly, startling him. "I do not know how this has happened… I've never known something like this to happen so soon, I know, I realize you may not want this anymore, you don't have to pretend-"

He took her chin and lifted it firmly with a single finger. Her eyes remained closed, as if she were a child about to face repercussions.

"Sif, look at me…," he spoke quietly, calmly. "Darling, look at me…"

She opened her eyes, her beautiful, big, hazel eyes. The same eyes she had all the days he had known her, only the look in them now was foreign. She had been broken by him, by his disappearances, by his misgivings, by his feigned death, and now this. To think_ he_ wouldn't want _her… _

He reached up, cupping her face in his hands and proceeded to search her eyes intently. "How could you think that_ I_ could ever not want _you_?" he emphasized, his own tears starting to form. "I've waited, _literally,_ my entire life to hold you as I am now, to feel your skin against mine, to kiss your mouth-," he cried, running his thumb across her lower lip. Slowly, he crouched down in front of her and pressed his lips to her stomach, running his fingers across her skin. He rested his head against her body and sighed. "To know that you love me in return. You, _you _are all that has _ever_ mattered in my mundane, pathetic existence and now I find that you are to bear me my children and you think I would - _abandon you_?"

"I didn't-"

"I know I am a monster," Loki said sadly, slowly breaking away from her to retrieve his own towel. "But I would like to think I'm not _that _much of one."

Before Sif had time to respond, Loki wrapped the towel around his waist and carefully picked her up in his arms, carrying her through the rooms and laying her gently down upon the bed. He covered her with several blankets, leaned her up against the headboard and fussed incessantly about how many pillows she should have behind her back.

"By the Norns, I'm not an invalid yet…," she protested, though her complaints seemed to be falling on deaf ears. Even if she was only a day along, she was grateful for his assistance for the mere fatigue from the days events was making her weak. A hint of a smile crossed her lips as she watched him intently trying to make her warm, and he caught her.

"This is nothing," he laughed. "I'm afraid I'm only going to be more bothersome to you from this point on."

"Bothersome Loki? Not a totally foreign concept...," she smiled broadly, suddenly whacking him vigorously across the head with the closest pillow.

He looked up at her wide eyed, a threatening smile creeping slowly across his face.

"Oh! This is what you want, is it? This is how you want to play?" He bit his lip and quickly jumped on the bed, grabbed another pillow and smacked her in return. He threw the pillow to the side, forcing her under him, tickling her sides until she screamed at him to stop. He loved playing this game with her.

"You are such a child!" Sif snorted, trying to catch her breath. She meticulously began to pick feathers from the pillow off her lips and shot him a dirty look.

"Ah, yes, but see," he laughed, laying down closely beside her. "You started it this time, my dear."

She glanced over at him as he laid back, looking up at the ceiling above him and smiling to himself. She loved seeing him so carefree. He was more like himself these past few days than he'd been in years. That boy she fell in love with so long ago was back next to her again, only this time, he was finally hers.

Sif sat up in bed, pulling the covers up to her chest to cover her bare skin.

"How did you know?" she asked.

Loki swallowed. He knew the question was coming, but he didn't have an answer. She was clearly exhausted and he did not want to worry her further. Not tonight.

"Does it matter?" he asked, planting a kiss upon her hand.

"I suppose it doesn't, it just seems odd that you knew so soon...," she replied. "Hels, it's odd that _I_ know so soon. The healer came this morning and he knew as soon as he saw me. I knew they could sense such things, but it just seems impossible."

"I figured that was how you found out," Loki said. "I don't possess the magic they do, but I knew when I saw you this morning, something had changed. As for how I found out, you need to trust me, Sif. Trust me now. When the time comes, I will tell you. But believe me, now is not it."

She nodded reluctantly. She didn't like the truth of any matter being kept from her, but she did trust him – despite all of his shortcomings and mistakes, she did.

"There's my girl," he smiled, leaning in to plant a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.

"Did you have meetings earlier?" she asked as they reluctantly broke away from one another.

"I did," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Several. Mostly council meetings on the status of the Bifröst. Painfully boring," he replied. "If I had known I would one day be sitting through eons of drab conversation on that dreadful bridge, I certainly never would have pushed Thor to destroy it. Truly, I never wanted any of this."

Sif sunk down under the sheets and rested her head heavily on her pillow. Her eyes grew weary, and she smiled to herself as she closed them. Loki looked over at her, studying her face, wondering to himself what she was thinking. It was the one power he always wished to have. There were so many times growing up he wondered what she thought, about everything. Little did he know, she was usually thinking about him.

"Two. Boys. What will we name them?" she asked tiredly, her eyes still closed.

Loki, caught slightly off guard, paused before answering.

"I don't know the first thing about being a father, Sif. I never truly had one."

She opened her eyes, taking his hand gently in hers.

"But you are a good man. You are Frigga's son. You learned from her, more than you realize. You know how to love, because of her."

"I know how to love because of you. Even before I knew what love was, I loved you. We are not our parents, Sif."

Sif paused a long time. For a moment, Loki thought she might have drifted off, but the shuffling she did beneath the blankets proved otherwise.

"I still have scars from him."

Loki swallowed, suddenly closing his eyes out of sheer anger. His stomach turned. Biörr, Sif's father, was the most fearsome warrior Asgard had, and Odin's right hand man. When they were children, Sif would frequently show up to lessons and battle practices with inexplicable bruises and deep wounds painting her flesh. She always blamed it on a duel she lost or a clumsy misstep, but Loki knew better. There were times, at night, he would sit outside of her window and hear Biörr beating her in a drunken stupor. He had cast more curses on that buffoon than he had on anyone or anything else combined in his entire existence. Sometimes, Loki wondered if the whole reason Sif became a warrior was merely to learn how to defend herself against her father.

"He's a very, very fortunate man."

"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.

"Because if it were possible to bring him back from the dead and kill him a second time, I would have already done it. There were so many times I knew he was hurting you, and yet I sat there, doing nothing."

She put her head down. "It's not your fault."

"Do you remember that time he "accidentally" fell off the North Tower and broke nearly every bone in his miserable body?"

"_Do _I ever," she responded pensively. "He didn't lay a hand on me for weeks. I think it was the first time I was fully healed in ten years or so."

"There was nothing accidental about it."

"You?"

"Me. I should have killed him, Sif. I should have done it. I couldn't stand seeing you like that."

"I knew you knew. I think most people did but they just turned a blind eye to it," Sif looked down. "My mother worst of all."

Loki cautiously sat up, and pulled Sif onto his bare chest. He leaned down to softly kiss her head and began stroking her hair.

"I'm appalled at the way I treated you earlier," he said disgustedly, his stomach churning.

"You were drunk," Sif smiled, running her fingers half consciously across his bare chest. "You never could hold a drink well."

"Neither could he. There is no excuse. I love you, I would die protecting you. And them. You know that right? Nothing will ever harm you ever again," he whispered, holding her tightly to him. His eyes began to fill with tears. He knew his statement was true, he would die protecting them. But would it be enough to keep them safe forever?_  
_

"Mmhmmmm," she sighed into his chest. Loki knew Sif was at the edge of sleep now as her breathing began to slow and her body relaxed more against his.

He cautiously reached his free arm out to the side table and grabbed a small, inconspicuous box that was resting there. He removed Frigga's wedding ring -an ancient sapphire encrusted in the rarest gemstones in the nine realms – and carefully placed it upon Sif's finger.

"_Be my wife_," he whispered, his soft lips grazing against her ear.

She stirred, but didn't open her eyes. Instead she smiled, nodded her head and proceeded to fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Loki woke before Sif. She continued to sleep so soundly next to him, he couldn't bear to wake her. He watched her for hours instead, brushing stray hairs from her eyes, smiling to himself when her nose twitched. She was a child again, innocent and vulnerable, in need of his care. Part of him wished she could stay wherever she was now, far from the misfortunes that plagued her waking life. Far from him. Far from any prophecy.

It wasn't long then before she woke, her eyes opening to meet his adoring gaze. He wasn't sure if she remembered what he had asked her the night before, but she closed her eyes and smiled.

"So what will the court think when they see an old king marrying a young warrior?" she peeked up at him, one eye open.

He smiled broadly, but before he had the chance to kiss her, a rapping suddenly came from the window.

Huginn and Muninn, Odin's ravens, were perched outside on the ledge, looking in alarmingly at the two of them.

Sif quickly fearfully up at Loki, but his eyes remained fixed on the birds.

"He's awake."


End file.
